The Garden
by Paul1
Summary: A bodyguard assignment turns into something far more sinister for two Jedi... Rated PG-13 for intense violence. Includes new Introduction.
1. Introduction

**The Garden**

By Paul A. Broyles, III

  
  


_Copyrighted ©2002-2003 by Paul A. Broyles, III. "Star Wars" and all related names, terms, characters, and situations are the exclusive property of George Lucas and LucasFilm Limited. This is a work of fan fiction conceived as an homage for the "Star Wars" universe and is not intended as an infringement of any applicable copyrights. This work is not-for-profit, and no money may be made from this work. However, Thyar (the language), the Heptharo people, and all other related characters, locations, and ideas belong exclusively to me. Also, any other species, languages, characters, and locations not already established as part of the "Star Wars" universe are my property. Please consult me before using them. Though this notice is not specifically given at the start of each "Chapter" of this multi-part work, it applies to each chapter and to all related materials._

  
  


**Note: While I've tried to keep it as innocuous as possible, this discussion may inadvertently contain some spoilers. I'd advise reading the story up to the last current chapter and then going back and reading this Introduction.**

Introduction:

"The Garden" has been a long time in progress, now.

Back in the Spring of 2002, I was extremely excited by two developments in _Star Wars_. For one, I was very deeply into the book series entitled _The New Jedi Order_. This was _Star Wars_ as we'd never seen it before; I ate it up. I adored it. And it inspired me enough for me to get back into fan fiction. For another, the release of _Attack of the Clones_ loomed large. I had some general knowledge of where the story was going, and so I decided to put my rediscovered love for _Star Wars_ in print and my excitement about the upcoming film to work. I conceived "The Garden."

I wrote the first chapter as a trial run, before I even had any clue where the story was going. All I really knew was that I wanted a grand, sweeping story that our heroes just happen to stumble into the middle of, and that I wanted it to lead naturally into _Episode II_. Really, this only put one constraint upon me. I had to create my own, entirely new scenario; I could not steal from established stories. This suited me just fine.

I wrote the first chapter all in one sitting, with nothing in mind other than to plunge the reader into the thick of things - whatever "things" ended up being. Even as I wrote that one chapter, an elaborate backstory seemed to spring up, complete with a new species and its own language. By the time I'd finished writing it, I had a pretty good idea of what had come before the story and a general idea of where it was headed. Chapters just poured out.

All too soon, however, real life interposed. I had school to worry about, a girlfriend to spend time with, and a SW fan film to produce. "The Garden" took the back burner. Occasionally, I'd get a chapter in here and there, but overall, I was stalled.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

I abhor outlines. I've always refused to make them for English classes, so the idea of my outlining for a personal project is ridiculous. I'd written out a lot of the religious myth behind the story textbook-style so that I could refer to it when needed (at Chapter 12, we've only just seen the tiniest hint of the myth that forms the story's backdrop), but other than that, I simply had where I was coming from and where I was going in my head. I maintain that this allows for a looser, more natural writing style, and I'm going to keep doing it this way. Still, it got me into trouble.

I'm not sure quite how the mistake happened. I do most of my writing in the wee hours of the morning, and it's possible that one night, I was just a little too tired to write and didn't realize it. But I got mixed up on my chronology and structure. Obviously, alternating chapters follow two separate stories. The idea has been from the beginning that the odd-numbered chapter and the even-numbered chapter that follows it are occurring at exactly the same time. And it some point, I missed this. So, in Chapter 11, Obi-Wan has a vision of something that has already happened.

It was several days before I realized this. As soon as I did, I flew into a panic. I had to assume that the new chapter had already been read. I couldn't recant now. But I couldn't even begin to decide what to do. The new vision didn't fit in any way with anything I ever hoped to have happen in the story. For a while, I toyed with the idea of having it be a vision of the past - Master Yoda tells Luke that these occur in _The Empire Strikes Back_. But on rereading what I had written, that didn't really work. The vision as I wrote it came off as a vision of something that was happening then and there, which is exactly what it was originally intended to be. No, there had to be some other solution. But I couldn't think what it might be. So, for months, I stopped writing.

I recently reformatted my computer, and while digging through the files I'd backed up, I came across the OpenOffice.org document that's got my complete working copy of "The Garden." I'd almost forgotten about it. It all came back to me in an instant, and I realized that I'd neglected my readers for way too long, and I just needed to sit down and write my way out of the corner I was in. To further my resolve, a few days after I began working on the story again, RecycledFunk left a comment (which I got in my e-mail) encouraging me to put up a new chapter. This was just the support I needed to make sure I got going again. (Thank you, RecycledFunk!)

The mythos behind the story remains the same. The backstory remains the same, as does the intended conclusion. But in order to correct my mistake, I've had to introduce a new, significant plot element that was not in my original story idea at all. Things will be following a different path. But now after a wait of several months, they will be following a path at last.

Thank you for your patience,   
-Paul


	2. Assassins

Assassins.

Obi-Wan's heart raced when he heard the word. His apprentice was sound asleep in the adjoining chamber, and Obi-Wan did not have the time to wake him. Half-dressed, his outer robes in a forgotten heap in a corner of the bedroom, he barely had the presence of mind to sweep his lightsabre up from his nightstand as he tore into the corridor.

Assassins. It could only mean the worst. The princess was frail by human standards, though stronger than many of her own kind, and it was believed that any severe physical injuries would likely kill her in her present, weakened state. It was one of the reasons the Jedi Council had authorized the Jedi Knight to bring his apprentice to this forsaken planet on the outskirts of the galaxy.

Obi-Wan's instincts screamed that he ought to be using the Force to help him run, but he feared that it might leave him too weak to face whatever he found in the garden. The handmaid, poor creature that she was, had only had time to cry that one word at him before she collapsed, bleeding freely. There would be medics bearing her from his chamber by now, he guessed, but doubted it would make a difference. She was so tiny that she must have bled out most of her life long before she made it to his chamber. It was a wonder she had lasted to the end.

The little girl's blood had been a river outside of Obi-Wan's apartment, but apparently, she had aggravated her wounds in dashing to inform him; the thick, milky-white blood grew sparser and sparser as he dashed down the corridor, and then was gone entirely. Obi-Wan began to wonder if he had lost his way in this labyrinth of a palace, and was just on the verge of turning back when he came upon the great stone doors that separated the garden from the palace. They were inscribed with strange, flowing characters, but Obi-Wan was told that in Basic, they read, "Planted here, the seeds of life." It was popular belief that the firstborn of the royal family were traditionally conceived in the garden, but Obi-Wan knew nothing of that.

He pushed at the mammoth doors, first with his arms and then with his mind, but they would not give. A pity. He tossed his lightsabre from hand to hand for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but finally, with a look of resignation, ignited the blade. Three slashes and it was over; the bottoms of the doors cut away, they crashed, shattering, to the floor.

Obi-Wan clambered hastily over the rubble and out into the cool night air. Though designed as a courtyard in the heart of the palace, the garden was huge. During the day, an observer on one side could hardly see anyone standing opposite him; at night, Obi-Wan was absolutely blind, both to the position of the princess and to any threat in the area.

The Jedi closed his eyes, more from habit than necessity, and allowed the Living Force to course through him, filling the cavity in his brain left by the darkness. There was no one close at hand - at least, he thought with a shudder, no one living - but to the southwest, something was barely stirring, teasing the edge of Obi-Wan's consciousness.

The knight ignited his lightsabre, the light from its green blade making the surrounding flora appear eerie and foreboding. Although he knew he would have _sensed_ anyone nearby, it felt to Obi-Wan as if something was bound to spring at him from the shadows at any second. Something did.

Though the princess's body was tiny compared to his own broad form, it exploded out of the bushes so unexpectedly and hit him with such force that he was knocked over. His lightsabre flew from his hand and deactivated of its own accord. He did not see where it landed.

The princess pummeled him with her firm, bony hands and snapped at his throat with those sharp, crystal teeth until he cried out.

"Oh, Ban!" She exclaimed. "I thought it was one of them!"

He was not sure whether Ban was her attempt to abbreviate his name or was the invocation of some tribal god with whom the Jedi was not yet acquainted. "One of who?"

"Men carrying blades like yours. The came on us suddenly, without any warning. The slaughtered my attendants and left me for dead, and..." She broke off, sobbing.

"Come, now, let me get you where it's safe and we can get you all cleaned up," he said, lifting the princess into his arms. He carried her gently, slowly, steadily, until they were in sight of the doors he had ruined.

"Put me down, now, I think I can walk," the girl said, and he complied, lowering her carefully to the ground. The burst of pain as something struck him in the back of his head was his first clue that someone was behind him, and he had no time to call out a warning before he toppled, unconscious, to the ground.


	3. The Girl

In his dream, Anakin was a great leader. His face was in shadow as he sat upon the throne, but that mattered not to the countless thousands who admired him. Woman came and gave him their children to be blessed, and Jedi gathered to lay down their lightsabres at his feet. And he ruled well. There was no insurrection, no petty infighting, nothing that hampered the smooth workings of government while he was in control.

As he continued to sit upon his throne, everything around him changed, and he was no longer on Coruscant, but adrift in the void of space. Stars scrutinized him from every direction, their piercing eyes prickling the skin on the back of his neck. And as he drifted, a beautiful planet swam before him. It was blue and green of the brightest hues, such a cheerful planet. There was no sign of hostility or even of fear from that world; he doubted that it even bore arms. And, though he knew not who, he could sense that someone very dear to him was there.

As he looked on, the planet burst into billions of tiny shards.

Anakin screamed as those glowing, red-hot fragments streaked past him, accompanied by the cry of countless voices. The screams grew louder and louder until he thought his ears would burst. He awoke with cold sweat streaming down his brow.

He pushed back the covers and arose swiftly, making his way into his master's room. Though he could tell at a glance that Obi-Wan was not there, it was clear that someone was. Anakin swept up his lightsabre from the table where it lay and kept it poised, his finger on the ignition switch, as he cautiously pressed his palm to the panel which activated the chamber's gas lights.

He could hear a hiss as Tibanna coursed through the grooves in the walls and then ignited with a pop, bathing the room in its pale yellow glow. An Hephtharo girl, aged about two - nine in human years - was lying sprawled on the floor in a growing pool of her own white blood. He placed a hand on her forehead and felt the undulations of her nerves. She was still alive.

"Kae-ei," he said in his best Thepth - _Hello._

Her response was unintelligible, but seemed to express bewilderment.

Anakin elected to try another dialect. The only other form of Peth commonly spoken on this continent was Thyar, in which he had received little training. Her brainwaves were far too weak for him to glean the desired word from them. He would simply have to remember. And it was finally the sound of the word "remember" that brought it back to him. "Roe-okh."

At this, the girl did seem to stir with a purpose. So she was Thyare. How unfortunate for him. At least the grammar structures were similar, though much of Thyar was spoken backwards from Thepth.

He decided to venture a complex sentence. "Chah roe-tiem whobe?"

It was a foolish question, he knew as soon as it was out of his mouth. Lying on the floor bleeding, she was far too weak to move, but at last, he got a response. "O whit."

"Chah doo-geim shre?"

"Roe," was all she was able to gasp out - _Me._

She was fading fast, Anakin knew. He could tell it by the throbbing of her delicate brow – each pulse was more pronounced than the last. She had to have treatment soon. Deciding to risk injuring her further, he scooped her into his arms, unprepared for how light she was. She weighed no more than a feather.

He ran down the palace corridors screaming first in Basic and then in Thyar, "Help me! Help me! Litem-roe! Litem-roe!"

Absolute silence. Not a soul stirred.

Anakin, frenzied, his eyes wild with panic, flung open the great wooden doors to the infirmary wing and strode in, clutching the girl tightly in his arms. He stopped and looked around in dismay. The infirmary was empty, the thick curtains drawn. "No!" Anakin cried out with such fury that the little girl he was carrying shuddered. He laid her down on a bed along one wall and began dashing about, rummaging in cupboards and pulling out boxes of dried herbs and bottles of strange cordials. He threw up his hands in dismay. He knew what none of it did.

He returned to the girl's side and placed a hand gently upon her forehead. Her nerves stood out from her skull, their contractions were so intense. She had only moments left if he did nothing.

He took a deep breath and placed both hands upon her chest, closed his eyes, and began to concentrate intensely, pouring out his life into her through the Force. But nothing changed. It was as though he was touching air - less than air - nothing. With a grunt of disbelief he gave it up.

He did all he knew how. The Padawan bent over and kissed her gently upon the forehead. With some strain, her face twisted into a smile - an expression affected for his benefit, as it was not one natural to her species. He could now see the undulations of her forehead from where he stood, and observed how much effort it was taking her to keep her facial muscles taut. And then she was gone.

Anakin's scream was of frustration mixed with rage. He threw himself at the wooden infirmary doors and began pummeling, kicking, striking, until they were but boards and splinters hanging from twisted hinges. And then he ran with all his might, desperate to escape that little girl's ghostly smile.

The young Jedi did not fully know the layout of the palace, but his path took him far from the Garden. Had he let his feet carry him in the other direction, he might have been in time to see his bloodied, unconscious master being lashed roughly to the back of a swoop, but alas, he did not.

He did however hear the swoop racing away from the palace, its engine raucous and grating on a planet where no artificially powered vehicles were allowed. He had half a mind to investigate, but on turning, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that something was standing in the shadows not ten paces behind him, watching him intently. It was very tall and razor thin, covered with bristling fur, with two legs and four arms. Its upper body swayed back and forth, as if it lacked the strength to stay completely upright.

Anakin quickened his stride and reached for his lightsabre. It wasn't there. He cursed, and then gasped as something dropped from the ceiling into his path. It was the thing he had seen following him just a moment before.

"Missing something?" it asked in flawless, warbling Basic, flourishing the missing lightsabre.

"Give me that!" Anakin lunged for the weapon, but the creature snapped it away so that it vanished from sight and a moment later his two-fingered hand was empty.

"Not so fast small one. Rehope see you with pretty toy and Rehope see you cast aside pretty toy to kiss little girl, and Rehope say to self, 'Self, here is man who does not want pretty toy so much as Rehope does,' and so Rehope take pretty toy and go off to play with and then Rehope see that is not pretty toy at all but is light sword - weapon of Jedi. So Rehope wonder what Jedi doing here kissing lovely girl and Rehope wonder why he should little treasure back to Jedi."

"I don't have time for this," Anakin cried, but Rehope paid him no heed.

"You no tell Rehope no stay," it said, and is if to show that its threats were legitimate, it sprang backwards, grasping onto the stone of the ceiling with its spiny feet.

Anakin sighed and passed his hand in front of his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. In all his days on the culturally rich world of Coruscant, or even in the bustling spaceports of Mos Espa, he had never seen anything like the strange creature now before him.

Rehope shrugged, swung all six limbs up to the ceiling, and went scurrying away. Anakin threw up his hands in consternation and ran after the peculiar creature, shouting "Wait!"


	4. Bloodletting

Obi-Wan awoke to the searing pain of a knife slicing open the skin of his forearm. He held perfectly still, not daring to give any indication that he was awake. Gloved hands roughly grabbed the arm and pressed some sort of ceramic bowl to it, so that his blood washed into the bowl.

Why could they want his blood? Obi-Wan could not reason through it. And then, an echo of a warning arose in the back of his mind. A name, a name long forgotten. And with that name came a shiver that ran down his spine.

Obi-Wan was on his feet without even knowing how he had done it. His lightsabre was of course missing; he vaguely remembered having dropped it in the garden. Nevertheless, he knew that a Jedi is never without weapon. He spun and kicked his assailant square in the jaw.

He thought for a moment he had broken his ankle. As he stumbled backwards, howling in unexpected pain, he was able to get a glimpse of who - no, what - he had attacked.

The being was scarcely recognizable as sentient. It was simply a mass of tough, armored shell, some of which was cruelly spiked. And, though Obi-Wan could see no mouth, no eyes, nothing that would normally express emotion, the Jedi could tell by its heavy movements that it was angry.

Obi-Wan slowly backed away, looking desperately around for something with which to fend off this colossus. He seemed to be in some sort of storage area; at any rate, it was littered with crates and assorted equipment that appeared to be junk.

Obi-Wan snatched up what appeared to be an electrified pike of sorts and was delighted to find that it was. He thrust at the monster, wedging the pike's tip between two of its scaly shells. The creature squealed in what the Jedi Knight took to be pain and turned to flee snapping the pike in half as it did.

Obi-Wan's first concern was for the bowl of blood, but the creature appeared to have taken it with it; at any rate, he could not seem to find it. He then looked frantically around for the tiny princess, but she was not there.

He realized that he had to vacate the area quickly or more of the creatures would likely return. A quick inspection revealed the way the creature had left as the only exit from the room. He ran to it and out into the corridor.

As he noticed the corridor wall, he stopped in shock. It was made of some leathery substance, and seemed to be throbbing in rhythm. It was alive!

The wise Jedi realized, however, that he could not afford to study it for long if he intended to live. He picked a direction at random and ran his hardest.

The air grew colder as he ran, and the organic walls were eventually replaced with metal ones. It was perhaps fifty meters after the beginning of the metal corridor that, for the first time, a corridor crossed his. He pressed himself against the wall, using the shadows as much as the Force to hide him. Cautiously, he peered around the corner.

In his whole life, he had never seen any creature more beautiful than the one that was slowly walking toward him up the hall. It was slender and elegant, its body similar to that of an animal suited for riding. It walked on four legs, the front two of which had seven knobby digits each. Its head protruded from its body on a very long and very thin neck which looked dangerously fragile. It skin was barely reflective and pure white.

The creature turned and began to walk in his direction. Obi-Wan drew in his breath and plastered himself to the wall again. It passed by his corridor and continued to walk. He leaned precariously out to watch it go.

The creature paused before a door set into the wall and rubbed its forehead against it. The door opened with a whoosh. Though he craned his neck, Obi-Wan could not see what was behind the door.

The creature entered the room and emerged a moment later with something balanced on its back. When Obi-Wan at last realized what it was, he gasped in surprise. The princess sighed softly and, still asleep, grasped the creature's skin more tightly.

Obi-Wan began to run after them, but before he reached them, they were gone, though the Jedi could not see where.


	5. Blood and Water

As Anakin pursued Rehope through the palace, his mind was not really on the chase. He was thinking back upon a dream that he had had - a dream much more vivid than the rest. And since his dreams so often came eerily true, he had assumed at the time that the absolute clarity meant that it was to come soon. He recalled it so perfectly...

Water was everywhere, engulfing his eyes, his lips, his nostrils. He panicked and tried to escape, but could not seem to free himself of the water's terrifying clutches.

The water was red and deep, as though he were swimming in an ocean of blood. He kicked, splashing to the surface, and gulped in a gasp of heady sea air. The waves of crimson beat down upon him, battering his body, but he was able to master them and to stay afloat.

Suddenly, with no warning, a hand reached up from the depths and attached itself to his ankle. He kicked at it fiercely, but it would not disengage. It pulled him slowly, inexorably away from the surface and down, deeper and deeper. He was running out of breath.

He tumbled to the bottom of the sea and lay there for a moment, dazed, attempting to recover. He strained his eyes upward in an effort to see his assailant's face.

He choked on a mouthful of the bloody water. The face peering down at him was his own.

The man who had his face pulled him roughly to his feet and turned his head, so that he was looking out into the gloom nearby. As Anakin scrutinized the blackness, it seemed to fade so that he could see into it.

Tens of thousands of men were standing, all the same, holding guns pointed skyward. On some signal unseen by Anakin, they pivoted in unison, so that they were facing him.

They, too, wore his visage.

Anakin had screamed and choked and awoken, relieved.

When he returned his attention to the palace's stone ceiling, Rehope was no where in sight.


	6. Menace

Obi-Wan dashed headlong down the corridor in some vain hope of again encountering the mysterious pair, but knew he had little hope. He had searched every room connected to the corridor, every other hall near it, and had found them all devoid not only of occupants, but furnishings. Bare and white-walled, such areas seemed to stare penetratingly at him, making him shiver.

As Obi-Wan continued to run, picking his turns entirely at random and becoming completely lost in this maze of a building, he began increasingly to believe that the perception of being watched was not solely in his mind. Though he could not find his observers, it was more than the prickling feeling of paranoia - the Force itself whispered to him of eyes that watched him. He began to become frightened, his heart beating faster and faster.

Soon, perspiration covered his brow. Worse, the running had aggravated his wound; the cut on his arm began to breed freely again. As his blood fell, staining the white floor a deep crimson, he became aware of just how vulnerable he was to his pursuers, whoever they were.

As Obi-Wan rounded a corner, he suddenly heard raised voices speaking in hurried Basic. He slipped into the shadows, but the hall was empty. Looking apprehensively about, the Jedi at last noticed a door standing open just up the hall from him. He crouched down, staying absolutely still, and began to listen intently.

"But for all the Reaoem to have been? And you expect me to stand by? No! We must terminate." The voice was excteremly high - feminine in pitch, but it had some quality about it that made Obi-Wan believe a man was the speaker.

"Relax, Shakha," another voice said, low and sickly sweet and oozing menace. A political voice, Obi-Wan thought sarcastically. "All but one were destroyed."

"But what of that one? What of that one? Even one specimen - one - could ruin the enterprise! And you know what his majesty would do..."

"I have faith," said the politician, "that even the last specimen shall be recovered before it poses any threat to us."

Shakha inhaled puffily, stammering, but could apparently think of nothing to say.

Tension was building in the corridor; the silence had become deafening, stifling everything. A single drop of Obi-Wan's blood fell to the floor, and he was aware of how loud the noise seemed to be.

He tensed, ready to run, although he did not know why. The Unifying Force was at work in him, he supposed, guiding his instincts.

With no warning at all, something small and sharp raked across Obi-Wan's thigh, tearing through his robes and drawing a grimace of pain to his face. He sucked in his breath sharply, stifling his cry of alarm, but even that small noise was enough to attract attention.

"Ban! Someone in the hall!" It was Shakha's voice.

_This place is... Quite..._ Obi-Wan could not find the word he was looking for. His very thoughts seemed to be slowing down. He watched numbly as two men - one Hephtharo, one human - emerged from the door and looked quickly around the hallway before spotting him.

"Ahh," the man with the deep voice said. "Our subject seems to have passed his test. He shall make a fine addition."

The man bent over and carefully placed two fingers precisely on the center of Obi-Wan's forehead. The Jedi felt a jolt of pain, but was too far gone to respond. A moment later, he had collapsed, his head striking the cold, hard floor with an unpleasant crunch.


	7. Darkness

Was it the sound of the harshly screeching voices that had caused Anakin to run, or had the fall of many feet on cold stone alerted him to the peril long before that? Perhaps even he did not know. He had been warned, however, regardless of the means, and was running his hardest down a labyrinth of corridors with which he was entirely unfamiliar.

The floor of the hall sloped mildly down, but it ran for so long, around twists and turns and under interior balconies and stone bridges connecting upper passages, that Anakin realized that he must be quite deep under the palace grounds indeed. And, inexplicably, his pursuers seemed to be gaining on him; at any rate, their movements became louder and louder.

He came into an area where the smooth stone and marble that had made up the walls and floor disappeared and were replaced with rough black stone veined with red. There were no blocks or seams; it had evidently been excavated directly from the planet's interior. The ceiling was still quite high, though there were no longer any balconies. The hall seemed to spread into the darkness beyond, as if it expanded into a cavern.

As he passed over the threshold separating the two parts of the palace, Anakin froze. He cocked an ear, but his observation had been correct. There was no longer either sound or sign of his pursuers.

As Anakin peered into the gloom of the hewn stone cave, reluctance and dread seemed to overtake him. He weighed his options for a long moment, standing perfectly still in the oppressively dead air, but finally prudence won out and he elected to retreat.

Slowly, scarcely daring to breathe, he turned around.

The marble hall was nowhere to be seen. All that lay before him was a rough stone wall.

He shivered, horrified, and turned back around and peered into the inky blackness beyond. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Straining his eyes against the murk, he seemed to see two large eyes peering back at him.

Suppressing his fear by sheer strength of will, Anakin slowly, softly, stealthily made his way forward, into the shadows of the deep darkness beyond. He though he saw some great shape in the looming menacingly from the blackness, but it could merely have been his fear and the complete absence of light joining forces against him.

As Anakin edged along the wall, he felt a sudden whistling of air and then a burst of fiery pain as something tore through his left arm, leaving a gaping, bleeding hole. He cried out in pain.

Throwing his hands up to shield his face, Anakin channeled the Force through his palm so that light shone from his open hand, making the cavern dimly visible. A monstrous creature towered above him, snorting angrily, blinking in annoyance from the sudden light.

At first glance, Anakin thought it was a Reek. As it swung its powerful jaws down toward him, it reminded him of a Rancor. But as four hands with double rows of claws descended upon him, he realized that it was neither.

He dove out of the way and rolled, wincing as his bleeding arm scraped against the ground, barely escaping the creature's vicious slash. Its head snapped around to face him... And then another head, jaws dripping with slimy drool, followed. The monster rose slightly and Anakin could see that four muscular legs complemented the four powerful arms.

Anakin turned and ran as hard as he could. The creature leapt to its eight limbs and went bounding after the Jedi, closing the distance between them rapidly with each pounding stride. The cavern floor shook, hurling Anakin into the air, as all its arms and legs came down together.

As Anakin scrambled to his feet, rocks began to cascade from the walls and ceiling, set loose by the creature's powerful impacts. Anakin cursed and dodged a great falling boulder twice his size, barely avoiding it in time. And then the creature was upon him.

It swung one of its mighty arms, sending him crashing, dazed, against a wall. Leaping over to him, it swung its heads toward him and slowly lowered them, sniffing at him with twin sets of nostrils. Its right jaws opened, revealing a row of razor-sharp teeth. And then a second mouth opened inside the first.

Anakin screamed in horror, and then in pain as hundreds of sharp teeth pierced his flesh and swung him into the air.


	8. Training

As rough hands shook him into awareness, Obi-Wan did not struggle. He barely had the energy to move. He could not even recall what had happened to him before he had lost consciousness.

As he slowly blinked his eyes open and Shakha's face came into focus, it all came rushing back to him. Looking for the princess, and listening from outside the door to Shakha's mysterious conversation with the old man, and then the attack...

A shiver made its way down his spine as he recalled the attack. There was just something about it that didn't fit, that didn't make sense. Because he would have known if the man was a Force adept, would have sensed it. And yet, the man had plainly not used any sort of weapon; no blaster could have produced such an effect on a Jedi Knight. But what was it, then? How had the man felled him so quickly, so efficiently, with only a touch of his hand? And there were other oddities tugging at the back of Obi-Wan's subconscious, barely out of reach. No, something was not right.

His reverie was interrupted as Shakha reached out with a thin, bony hand and seized the Jedi's wrist. In his high-pitched screech, the pale Hepthara commanded, "You come with me, Jedi. It is time for training."

Though Obi-Wan had no idea what the tiny creature was talking about, he had no desire to argue. Though very weak, he was able slowly to pull himself to his feet. As he did so, he realized that he was no longer wearing his familiar Jedi robes. Instead, he was dressed entirely in the smooth skin of some great lizard or beast. It was very thin and very soft, sliding silkily along his skin as he moved. His boots were of hide as well, but something thicker, stronger, and more familiar. But what kind of people were these that they could slay Rancors to make their clothing?

The Jedi steadied himself and stood upright, following Shakha through a metal door and into another long, white corridor. As they progressed, the air grew warmer and moister until they were walking through the living hallways Obi-Wan had discovered first upon being brought to this strange place.

Obi-Wan toyed briefly with the idea of making a dash for it and losing himself in the maze of long halls, but ultimately decided against it. Though he did not like feeling under Shakha's control, he did not feel that he knew enough of the situation to attempt to escape it. Besides, the thought of running into the mysterious man again petrified him.

Shakha grabbed his arm and they stopped together directly before a patch of the fleshy wall. As Obi-Wan watched in awe, the living wall fluttered and then rolled apart, forming a doorway for the two to pass through.

The room that they entered was perfectly empty, all that was there was a floor made of some hard substance that Obi-Wan suspected was bone, surrounded by living falls and ceiling. The air was filled with thick, slightly acrid-smelling mist. The man winced as it stung his eyes.

Shakha eyed him up and down for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to proceed with a plan. Finally, the Hepthara sighed and reached a hand into his tunic pocket. He pulled something from the pocket and extended it to Obi-Wan. "Training," he said.

Obi-Wan was so unprepared that it took him a moment to recognize it. "My lightsabre!"

Shakha smiled wanly, though Obi-Wan knew that it was an affected expression. "It would not do for you to lose your edge," the creature squeaked.

"Thank you, friend," said Obi-Wan, and meant it. His source of greatest concern the whole time he had been trapped had been the fate of his lightsabre - his most prized possession. Shakha bowed and left the way they had entered. Obi-Wan knew he would return when the Jedi was needed. Obi-Wan ignited the lightsabre to find it working perfectly, though the blade spattered and crackled in the room's damp air. He waved it experimentally, smiling as it appeared to fan out with the quick motion. It felt so long since he had wielded it; he always made it a habit to train daily.

How long had it been, really? He did not know. It felt like ages, but as he thought about the time he could account for, he realized that it could have been a matter of mere hours since he had been brought here.

As he contemplated how peculiar the situation was, Obi-Wan leapt about the room, striking out at the air with the glowing, humming blade. Soon, his skin was glistening with beads of sweat. So absorbed was he in this refreshing exercise that the did not even notice the shadow looming large upon the opposite wall.


	9. Running

Anakin would have given words for his lightsabre, but alas, the strange creature Rehope had eluded him long before. As he grimaced in pain, he felt his blood trickling down into the monster's gullet. He knew he had to act fast; the smell of his blood would surely pique this monstrosity's interest in him.

Anakin tried to harness the energy of the Force against the beast that held him between its powerful jaws, but he could not clear his mind of the searing pain. It took all his might just to keep from collapsing from the sensation of torn flesh. He could not concentrate.

An image rose unbidden into the Padawan's mind. A face, a woman - no, an angel. How many years had it been since he had seen Padmé? Nearly ten, he figured. But her countenance was still crystal clear in the young Jedi's memory.

She smiled at him, sweetly, reassuringly, and suddenly, the pain was diminishing. Her warmth, her courage, flowed into him and filled him with new strength. He had to live, because he had to see her again.

A brilliant burst of blue light illuminated the walls as the surge of sudden energy rocked the terrifying creature. Staggering back, dazed, it opened its mouth wide in an earsplitting roar of pain and dropped the Jedi. As Anakin tumbled ten meters toward the floor, he called upon the Force, binding himself to the air molecules in perfect harmony so that he drifted gently onto the stones.

The creature lunged toward him and Anakin ducked aside as those double sets of snapping jaws struck at where he had just been. He remembered the words of his master: "Remember, Anakin, a Jedi is never without a weapon." Thinking quickly, he understood what he must do.

Sinking down, Anakin pressed himself to the floor and kept as still as possible. The creature seemed to have lost track of him. Its two noses sniffed vigorously while four eyes probed the darkness. At last, they all came to rest upon them and the monster pounced toward him.

The Jedi exploded from the wall with all his strength, covering the length of the chamber in just a few short bounds and running as hard as he could up the opposite wall. His momentum and the Force carried him higher and higher. He was running ten meters above the chamber floor, now twenty, now thirty. Finally, he reached the dizzyingly high peak of the rocky, stalagtited ceiling. Drawing himself upward and crouching low to the ceiling, Anakin pushed off with his powerful legs, inertia and gravity pulling him downward.

Anakin shot toward the floor at a breathtaking speed. His legs were fully extended, his arms stretched out in front of him, making him perfectly aerodynamic. He curved his arms slightly, being swept toward the wall until he straightened them again. He was speeding toward the creature - exactly where he wanted to be.

Calling upon the Force to help him, he inverted his body so that his head was once again higher than his feet. And then, he was almost at the creature's level. The Jedi hit the beast hard, landing so that he was straddling one of its snouts. He was facing back toward its body. He kicked out ferociously, and one of its great saucer-sized eyes was dripping blood.

The monster howled in pain. The unharmed right head swung around, its cruel teeth snapping at the Jedi. But Anakin had already dropped to the stone floor below, so the creature's right head came away with a little flesh from the left nose proboscis hanging from its teeth.

The two-headed monstrosity snorted in anger and discuss, pivoting on its back four limbs. Finding its assailant was not hard, as the Padawan was running full-out away from the side of the cavern through which he had entered. The creature bounded after him, powerful legs throwing it toward him with ever-increasing speed. Each time one of its massive limbs struck the ground, the cavern rocked and more stone tumbled from the ceiling.

In no time, the beast was upon him. Both mouths grabbed at him, double sets of teeth opening him up again, and for a moment he thought it was going to tear him in half. Certainly, he would die soon; he had little blood left to spill.

Much to his surprise, instead of ripping his body in two, the creature flung him hard against the wall and began to lumber after him again. Anakin gave up with a resigned sigh. It was simply not worth the struggle. He should be spending these precious few moments meditating and preparing to meet his end with dignity, to become one with the Force, to let his life energies flow into all things.

As the creature's feet thudded onto the stone ground again, it flung Anakin up into the air. His head struck hard and he lay very still - but not because he was unconscious. Holding his breath, the Jedi listened.

Cool air licked caressed his battered body, a refreshing change from the stifling heat of the cavern. And, not far away, he could faintly hear the babble of voices speaking in many tongues and the sound of hundreds of scurrying feet. That was what gave him the drive to pull himself back to his punctured feet and steady his shaking legs, the idea that salvation was so near. Turning slowly around, he saw that the cavern terminated in a vast gulf, many meters across. It looked all but impassible, but on the other side... A city. People. Hope.

Anakin was bounding for the chasm, even though with each stride he became more convinced that his throbbing left leg was broken. The creature was right behind him, too. The Jedi could feel its hot breath on his back, and a growl rumbling in its throat.

He closed his eyes and leapt, air whistling beneath him. At the peak of his jump, his eyes slowly opened again. Staring down into the void beneath him, he saw a little ribbon of fire - a stream of molten lava. The gulf must extend clear down through the planet's crust! And, with a little shudder of horror, he realized that he was not quite halfway across. He wouldn't make it.

The monster was bellowing in frustration at having lost its prey, but Anakin hardly noticed. His eyes were fixed upon the opposite lip of the great crack above which he was sailing - though by now he was flying less than falling.

As he noticed that the canyon wall was a sheer drop with no outcroppings onto which he could cling, Anakin realized the inevitability of his death. A great calm descended upon him, and for the first time since he had left his mother, he was utterly at piece. His spirit felt light as a feather.

His eyes were closed, so he had no visual explanation for the cessation of the whistling wind in his ears. And, as his body drifted gently to rest on the edge of the side of the gap upon which the city was located, his lack of blood caused him to lose consciousness utterly.


	10. Failure

There was a faint hiss, as of wind rustling trees' leaves, and the squishy slapping sound of bundles of flesh and muscle striking the skin that made up the floor. Obi-Wan whirled, his lightsabre in a defensive posture. The blade continued to sizzle in the damp air. He could not see the creature that was with him, but he could feel its presence in the Force. A shadow crossed Obi-Wan's face.

He stretched out, probing using his danger since with all his concentration. There was a faint tingling at the back of his mind, suggesting that though a threat was not far, it was not upon him - was not even eminent.

The feel of danger remained a minuscule buzz at the back of his brain as a rubbery tentacle knocked the Jedi to the floor; even as its acid-laced slime raised welts across his face. As hundreds of tentacles surged toward his fallen form, Obi-Wan hardly had time to consider the ramifications of the Force's lack of warning... But the implications he did see gave him shivers.

An instant after he fell, he was springing back to his feet, crouched, blue blade held at arm's length. Waiting for precisely the right moment, he surged forward and swung the column of energy high above his head in a stroke intended to hack one of the flailing tentacles in two.

The jolt as the tentacle deflected the lightsabre's blade came as such a surprise that it nearly knocked him off his feet. Only by sheer strength of will was he able to keep the beam of light pressing down into the appendage, and slowly, with much effort, to sever it - but by that time, dozens of other tentacles were whipping at him, tearing at his robes.

He tried to scramble backward, but the strange creature was pulling him inexorably toward what he sensed rather than saw was a great, gaping, viciously jagged-toothed maw.

Obi-Wan's master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had, against the advise of the Jedi Council, instructed his Padawan in what the older man referred to as the Grey Arts. Though not by their nature of the Dark Side, the use of such powers with anything less than the purest intentions was evil. In general, however, Qui-Gon had taught his apprentice that survival was typically a worthy goal.

The Jedi Knight became an amplifier for emotion, sending the beast's malice back at it a thousand-fold. As it reared back, afraid, Obi-Wan shaped the thoughts he was deflecting more precisely, slowly weaving impression into impulse until it was thoroughly convinced that the great mouth was what it intended to rip to shreds.

Obi-Wan fell back into the shadows and crouched, watching motionlessly as the monster began to tell itself apart with its slimy tentacles. Its hideous screams drowned out all thought as they reverberated, shrill and piercing, through the chamber.

When the hideous sight was quite over, the wall membrane parted and Shakha, shivering, stepped through the ribbons of flesh that were all that was left of the hideous monster. He winced a little bit as his feet made a squelching noise, but even as Obi-Wan watched, the slaughtered form of the beast seemed to dissolve and to be absorbed by the floor.

With a sigh, Shakha said, "You've bested Effhert, then. Congratulations."

Unsure of himself, Obi-Wan bowed and said, "Thank you."

"Come," said the Hephthara.

Half expecting it to be confiscated, Obi-Wan fastened his lightsabre to leathery belt that hung at the waist of this strange outfit that his captors had given him. Shakha did not object.

As Shakha left the chamber, Obi-Wan held back for a moment. The wall sealed itself, the skin rolling back together until it appeared seamless. The Jedi poked experimentally at the wall with his finger. It was moist and springy, but did not budge as he touched it. He waved his hand through the air, trying to generate the suggestion that it should open for him, but it paid him no heed.

Shakha stuck his head back through, the wall rolling quickly open. "Come on! No time to waste!" He grabbed Obi-Wan's arm and pulled him through the gap in the wall, which closed easily behind them in a manner that almost seemed self-satisfied to the annoyed Jedi.


	11. Awake

Anakin's sleep was never dreamless. Never, since he was a very small boy, had he been blessed with the feeling of sinking into nothingness and emerging from the other side with no sense of anything's having passed along the way. But lately, the dreams had been growing more intense.

Sometimes, as now, he dreamed of his mother. It was always the same. She was stumbling, dizzy and unbalanced, through a stone cavern deep below the Tattooine sand. There was a very narrow elevated path, lit by some strange optical effect of the cave. On either side of this road was a plunge into dark oblivion far beneath.

Shmi Skywalker, tottering as she was, would scarcely have been fit to cross the rope bridge that spanned Sand Dragon Canyon, located a quarter of a day's walk to the south of Mos Espa. For her to attempt this perilous journey was more than folly; it was suicide. And yet nevertheless, she did so, placing one foot after the other and moving -- slowly, cautiously, but moving nonetheless -- out away from the safety of the sandy cavern floor, over the great black maw that gaped up at the narrow winding path.

Anakin trembled as he watched her. He could not even begin to guess why she attempted the crossing. There was nothing on the other side, as far as he could see; the chamber stretched away into gloom. And yet, his mother was surprisingly surefooted, moving with a grace he would not have thought possible for someone in her condition.

Her condition -- and what was that? He had to confess that he did not know. Her wobbling gait appeared almost intoxicated, but something about that didn't feel right. What was it? Something nagged at the back of his mind. He _knew_ -- he just couldn't remember, for the life of him.

She was halfway out of sight when she turned suddenly to see if he was there behind her. As she turned, a treacherous stone moved slightly under her left foot. This sent her off balance. She tottered precariously to one side for a moment, and the plunged into the blackness below, crying his name.

Anakin awoke in a cold sweat and sat bolt upright. This was a mistake, for tongues of flame shot up and down every nerve ending in his body. With a little grunting moan, he sank back to the bed on which he lay.

But what sort of bed was it? Coarse hairs grated against his bare skin, and his back itched all over. He tried to place himself, but could not. The very last thing he remembered was falling, and willing himself to merge with the Force, and then... And then the dream. There was nothing in between.

At last, he opened his eyes. He was staring at a ceiling made of a woven grey grass. The ambient light was tinted faintly red. He could hear, as in the distance, the hubbub of a small city. The very air smelled foul and stale, like the atmosphere on a space ship with faulty filters. But there was more to it than that. He did not recognize the odor, for he did not remember Tattooine that well and it had been completely absent from shining synthetic Coruscant. It was the smell of organic material decaying.

It was difficult simply staring at the ceiling, gaining no knowledge of what was going on around him, but Anakin knew better than to try to move again. Yes, he could use the Force to suppress his pain, but by doing so, he realized, he would be dismissing a valuable ally. The pain told him that his body was not yet healed, and by ignoring it and stressing his damaged body, he would only be wasting energy and risking further energy. No, far better to listen to the signals his own nerves were sending. And so he used the Force to calm him so that he was better able to fight his impatience.

He heard the rustle of reeds being pushed aside, and for a moment the sounds of city life from outside grew louder, but they receded again nearly almost instantly. Though the creature made no sounds, Anakin could tell through the Force that there was someone in the room with him. A moment later, there was a stick-thin form bending over him, much like Rehope except that its fur was soft and golden. It prodded cautiously at Anakin with its four arms for a moment, until the human gave a little, moaning whimper.

The creature's speech was mostly little clicking noises, simply strung together by vowel sounds: "Qokatek." The sounds bore so little resemblance to those of a human that Anakin could not even tell whether it was a question or a statement.

Anakin groaned. "I don't understand you."

The creature clicked several times in what Anakin took to be bemusement. Finally, it intoned, "Potchakopadet."

Anakin was still completely oblivious to its meaning as it used all four arms to swing him up from the rough bed and to his feet. Every inch of him cried out in protest. His legs buckled under his weight. He was still weak from loss of blood. He moaned in pain, but the creature paid him no heed, dragging him away from the bed. Anakin's physical strength was at an end, so he did the last thing he knew. He let the Force fill him, strengthen his body, drive back the pain from his mind. And then he was standing more upright, and walking steadily and evenly beside this tall, thin creature.

The room was sparsely furnished. Its floor was of dirt, and its walls and woven of the same grey grass that formed the ceiling. There was a roughly-hewn wood table in one corner or the room, and on it sat a ceramic bowl filled with dirty water. Anakin had time to take all of this in while the creature brought him his robes. He dressed quickly, still wincing as the fabric of the robes scraped over sores upon his back.

"What's your name?" the Padawan asked. 

The creature clicked, "Kakatchipta."

Anakin assumed it was an answer to his quesiton. "I'm going to call you 'Ka' for short," he told it.

The creature swayed its upper body rapidly forward and back in a gesture that somehow reminded Anakin in a nod. Then, it gestured with its left two arms at a screen of reeds that made up part of one wall of the room. Anakin walked to them and pressed them gently aside. Immediately, the sounds and smells were significantly stronger.

He pushed through the reed curtain and found himself standing at the edge of a crowded thoroughfare, bustling with creatures he had never seen before, all with someplace to be and with parcels and bags under their arms. As he stood and watched for a moment, he observed something rather startling. There was not one human in the bunch.

Some of the buildings were grass huts like the one he had just left. Others were bulbous and organic-looking, all waves and arcs and curves. Their surfaces were rough. Still others were simply swellings of the ground, great mounds of dirt and stone with the insides dug out. It was all quite unlike anything Anakin had ever seen before.

A moment later, the thin creature emerged from the hut behind him and took him by the arm. Together, they joined the throng flowing down the dirty street. 


	12. Distant Death

Obi-Wan, sitting cross-legged on the fleshy floor, took another suspicious sniff of the stuff that was in the bowl before he put it to its lips and begin to slurp the stew from it. He had refused it at first when Shakha had offered it to him, but eventually, hunger had won out and he was sitting on the floor near Shakha, eating.

The stew was sweet and tasty. Obi-Wan recognized neither the elongated grains with which it was replete nor the meats and fruits that formed its base. He assumed they came from Pethnog, though he could not have justified that idea had he needed to.

At this thought of the planet he had left behind - no, the planet he had been taken from - the image of his Padawan learner rose unbidden to his mind. At first, he thought he was simply concerned for the boy, but the picture of the young man walking through some alien bazaar accompanied by a tall, gangly, golden-furred creature was so vivid and so urgent that the Jedi slowly began to realize that he was seeing a vision from the Force.

Anakin was in grave danger.

Obi-Wan stood up hurriedly, almost involuntarily, upsetting the stew. He was in a fighting stance, lightsabre gripped tightly, unlit, in his left hand. His right palm was flat, malleable, ready for whatever he needed with it.

A blur of colorful shapes swarmed around his apprentice, and there was great and horrible screeching and wailing. Obi-Wan could not see quite what was happening. All he knew was that in a moment, the boy was gone from sight.

Then, Obi-Wan reeled backward as though struck.

Anakin had vanished from the Force.

Anakin had vanished from the Force.

It took a moment for this realization to sink into the older Jedi's brain.

His Padawan's presence was entirely absent from the universe. The boy was not living. He did not exist in the Force, which bound all things together.

Obi-Wan had not felt his apprentice's death throes. Whatever had happened, it had been far too quick for the boy even to realize what was happening to him. He had not dreaded his death, or felt the burst of pain as it came. He had simply ceased to be, never knowing even that it had happened, let alone what caused it.

The humanity of the death did not make it any easier for Obi-Wan to accept that this boy that he had raised, that he had promised his dying master Qui-Gon that he would train, was gone from his life and from the universe forever.

There were stories of strange creatures from isolated planets that could deaden the Force in a specific area, that could obliterate for a time a Jedi's sense of the Force and the Force's sense of a Jedi. But Obi-Wan had felt such things; he was one of the few among the Jedi who knew what they were like or where they were found. And he knew what it felt like when one of them suddenly masked the presence of another Jedi. No, the boy was really gone, and there was no point in attempting to persuade himself otherwise.

Shakha could tell at a glance that something was terribly wrong with Obi-Wan. He ran to the Jedi's side and placed an arm upon his shoulder. "What is it, friend?" Obi-Wan, still too shocked to speak, brushed him away, but the Hepthara was persistent. "Tell me, Obi-Wan."

"On the planet... On Pethnog... I had a Padawan... An apprentice... Anakin... Dead, dead." Obi-Wan gasped the words, his voice raw with emotion.

Shakha frowned, sympathetic and yet puzzled. "How do you know?"

"I could feel it."

Shakha inclined his head slightly, obviously puzzled. He had never heard of anything quite like this before. But he could tell that the Jedi was in no shape to deal with the multitude of questions he had. Those would have to wait for later. Besides, he reflected, the Inquisitor might want to explore the topic himself. And so the Heptharo man said nothing.

Obi-Wan stood, floundering for what to do. Some paternal instinct screamed that he needed to go to the place he had seen in the vision, the place where his Padawan had died. But to do what? To avenge his death? Vengeance was of the dark side. He had learned that when he had thrown aside all his inhibitions and struck down Darth Maul after the Sith had killed his master.

But wasn't the bringing about justice a mission of the Jedi? And what was just about a murderer's walking free to kill again? In fact, wasn't Obi-Wan bound to kill the man in order to protect innocents, which was one of the things he had sworn his life to doing?

Obi-Wan shook his head. Far too many questions, too many things to consider. But, one way or another, he knew he had to go. He looked at Shakha. "May I have leave to go to where my Padawan was killed?"

Shakha smiled. Obi-Wan bristled at this, as he knew Heptharoem were not able to do so naturally and could only smile so convincingly after years of careful practice. And the expression was supposed to be moderately painful, so they never did it without good reason. _Just what is his game?_ Obi-Wan found himself wondering.

In his high, clear voice, Shakha said, "I cannot give you permission. There is but one who can. Perhaps it is time for you to meet His Imminence."

Abruptly, Shakha started out of the room, and Obi-Wan scrambled after him, shaking his head in confusion.


	13. Disconnection

The smell of sweaty alien flesh permeated all the stands at the bazaar, leaving Anakin nauseated as he made his way through the crowd, side by side with the tall, lanky, golden Ka. The whole of the great cavern in which this city was located was lit with a dull, blood-red light, which, though it flickered and wavered, lit all the area fairly evenly. Anakin searched this way and that for its source, but could not see it.

The pair was just passing a stall where a wrinkly old Dug was selling vegetables when Anakin's danger sense flared. He stretched out with the Force, feeling around him with his mind, but could sense no particular immediate threat. And yet the warnings in his mind grew louder and louder.

Suddenly, the air was filled with tiny creatures every color of the spectrum. They surged forward toward the young Jedi, sending him stumbling back to upset a stand at which a vendor was selling clear, faceted crystals. Some shattered as they tumbled to the stone below. As Anakin himself was knocked onto his back and the multicolored creatures surged across him, he arched his back and screamed in pain.

Every wound he had received in his encounter with the two-headed monster tore open, gushing blood onto the rock beneath him.

Anakin called the Force to him, wrapping it tight around him, increasing the pressure of the very air about his wounds, tugging at the cells of blood that coursed through his veins, bringing them to the skin to clot, and at the same time pulling the skin around the cuts tight so that it became harder for the blood to escape.

That was the idea, at least.

It was true that the Force flowed through everyone and everything, all the time, but a Jedi's connection with the Force was not a constant. When he wished to harness its powers, he opened himself to it and he and the Force were more strongly in union; inversely, he could if he needed to almost ignore it at other times unless it was trying to communicate something to him itself.

As Anakin drew the Force into himself, he felt the familiar tingling, warming sensation - but only for a moment. Suddenly, there was a great, gaping emptiness in him. He no longer possessed a connection to the Force.

Surprisingly clear-headed, the wounded Jedi assessed the situation. It didn't make any sense. It wasn't just that he couldn't tap into the Force's power. As far as he was concerned, it simply wasn't there. Its familiar flow no longer washed over him. It was the most alone, most horrific sensation he had ever experienced.

His masters at the Jedi Temple had taught him that separation from the Force could mean only one thing. But he wasn't dead, corporeal reality rushed on around him. Ka, frantic, was sweeping the tiny creatures from Anakin's skin with his four golden-furred hands. The stone of the cavern floor continued to press cold against Anakin. He was plainly alive.

The human man, bleeding so profusely that by all rights he should have been dead, slowly, shakily, stood. Ka leaped back, and the circle of onlookers that had formed around the spectacle let out a collective gasp.

Unsteadily, Anakin turned, surveying the crowd. His expression was fierce, and his face was very pale. He knitted his fingers together and scowled at them, muttering under his breath. No one could hear what it was saying, but Ka, standing nearest him, caught its dark, malicious tone.

Then, without warning, Anakin struck.

The Devorian he attacked was standing just inside the circle of watchers. Leaping toward him, Anakin kicked him in the stomach and then drove a palm into his face, shattering his flat nose. Spinning around, Anakin kicked high and with such strength that one of the horns atop the poor man's head cracked in two, the top half falling to the floor below.

Ka was at the crazed human's side in an instant. He wrapped his wiry legs around the Jedi's, immobilizing him. Binding Anakin's arms to his sides with his lower arms, the creature poked at the Jedi's neck with his upper two hands. Anakin gave a cry: "Vooo--" and then sank to the stone cavern floor, unconscious.

Ka surveyed the scene nervously. "Kaigring!" he exclaimed, staring in horror at the fallen form. Others in the crowd who understood his clicking speech took up the call: "Kaimem! The Invaders!"


End file.
